


11. Morning kisses that are exchanged before either person opens their eyes, kissing blindly until their lips meet in a blissful encounter.

by keeperofthefour



Series: 50 Types of Kisses [11]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Morning Cuddles, Morning Kisses, Senses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:48:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26859976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keeperofthefour/pseuds/keeperofthefour
Summary: This was a project I completed back in July on tumblr, using the prompt list "50 Types of Kisses" from @kashimalin-fanfiction. I am missing a couple, I think, but most of them are here. I've written various characters in both Mr. Love: Queen's Choice and Mystic Messenger.
Relationships: Han Jumin/Main Character
Series: 50 Types of Kisses [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959259
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	11. Morning kisses that are exchanged before either person opens their eyes, kissing blindly until their lips meet in a blissful encounter.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a project I completed back in July on tumblr, using the prompt list "50 Types of Kisses" from @kashimalin-fanfiction. I am missing a couple, I think, but most of them are here. I've written various characters in both Mr. Love: Queen's Choice and Mystic Messenger.

Silk sheets grazed the bare skin of your legs as you stretched, pointing your toes toward the foot of the bed while a sleepy moan escaped your lips. The warm, heavy weight of Jumin’s arm was draped about your midsection, fingertips grazing your exposed navel as you shifted your form closed to him, nestling your backside against his groin and rolling your hips to settle in. He breathed a heavy, tired sigh into your hair, silently relishing in the scent of your shampoo. 

Your favorite mornings were of the weekend variety, when he wasn’t in a rush to awaken and rise from bed long before even the sun could consider peeking over the horizon. 

Mornings with Jumin pleased  _ all  _ of your senses.  **His touch** , laden with a comforting sort of possession; you belonged to him, and he to you, even in sleep. The  **sound** of his gentle breathing, steady and relaxed, stirring the hair just behind your ear when he buried his face against the nape of your neck; his voice, when he would groan softly in his raspy, morning baritone, greeting you fondly with a, “Good morning, my love.” The  **scent** of his skin when you would circle in his arms to turn your face toward his, fingertips grazing over his cheek. Your eyes would still be closed, but you could sense his smile in the way the cadence of his breath changed and how it danced on the tip of your nose in quiet puffs. You could smell the remnants of his cologne from the previous day— woodsy, notes of juniper and sandalwood and something unique to him; pheromones, perhaps, that turned your thoughts into carnal mush when he was in your presence, onlookers be damned. 

The  **taste** of his skin as your lips would skirt blindly across his face, along his jawline where the stubble on his chin tickled and sent shivers down your spine. Tongue tracing along the column of his neck, lips slightly parted, your breathy giggle punctuating his involuntary shiver. His arms would tighten around you then, lush kisses pressed against your eyelids, your brow, down your nose and across your cheeks, eventually ending at the hollow of your throat as you succumbed to his gentle morning affection. Then you’d bend your neck to kiss his forehead and he would tilt his face to you, eyes still closed; kisses exchanged until your lips would meet in a blind, sensory deprived encounter; the silken softness of his mouth on yours heaven sent. Delicious. Deliriously perfect in every way. How his mouth molded perfectly onto yours, the subtle shifts and variations in pressure that made for a perfectly executed encounter each time. It felt like a dream.

And the  **look** he blessed you with when you both opened your eyes...heavily-lidded, the soft grey of his irises bringing a blush to your cheeks; he regarded you with such unabashed awe, with unhindered devotion, it almost  _ hurt.  _ It was an all-consuming sort of love, a love you sometimes felt unworthy of.

But in Jumin’s arms, or at his side, you were constantly reminded that you were enough. 


End file.
